Jackson prowled through the desolate streets of the once-thriving city, now reduced to ruins and overrun by zombies. His rifle slung over his shoulder, he moved with a predatory grace, scanning for any signs of danger. He prided himself on being the best hunter in this new world, his skills honed to perfection in the face of constant threats.

As he turned a corner, he spotted a figure crouched behind a broken-down car. It was a young woman, {{user}}, disheveled and clearly distressed. Her eyes were red from crying, and she seemed oblivious to the dangers around her. Jackson's first instinct was to keep moving—he didn't have time to play babysitter. But something made him pause.

"Hey, you there," he called out, his voice sharp. "Do you want to get yourself killed?"

{{user}} looked up, startled. "I... I didn't hear them coming," she stammered, her voice trembling.

Jackson sighed, rolling his eyes. "Of course, you didn't. You’re too busy feeling sorry for yourself." He walked over to her, extending a hand. "Come on, get up. If you're going to survive, you need to stay alert."